


as if everything will melt

by dotdotmoon



Series: and winter [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, M/M, diy but it goes sort of horribly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotdotmoon/pseuds/dotdotmoon
Summary: Minseok's so used to spending Christmas Eve alone, he entirely forgets about their plans.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Series: and winter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593466
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	as if everything will melt

**Author's Note:**

> i took prompts for winter drabbles but this is one i wrote for myself. it's not very christmas-y, and i apologise for that in advance?  
> may be seen as a continuation of [this xiuho](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980504)
> 
> 🎶 title borrowed from "winter heat" by exo

Minseok feels his face falling, peeling off like a leaden tangerine rind when he cracks the door open and Junmyeon's there, bouncing on his toes with blithe impatience. It's Christmas Eve, and Minseok's been about to extend his post-work shower, contemplating going to bed early, as he does on most holidays he spends alone. He's barely made it out to get the door, thrown a bathrobe over wet skin, allowing a wet trail of footprints to form behind him, in case this was an emergency. It couldn't be anything but.

"Junmyeon?" he asks with muddled concern when he sees his boyfriend—before it hits him.

"Did you forget?" Junmyeon steps out of his already untied boots and pushes inside, heaves out a sigh when he peels off his thick winter coat after pecking Minseok's cheek. There's a small box under his arm, haphazardly covered in golden snowflake wrapping paper and so much clear packaging tape it would survive an underwater delivery. "Is it at least a good surprise to see me? I'll go if you don't—if you didn't want to see me?" Junmyeon tacks on.

Minseok's still frozen where Junmyeon pecked him into petrification while his insides twist with embarrassment. They didn't make further plans for Christmas Eve besides exchanging low-cost self-made gifts and Junmyeon sleeping over—still, he entirely forgot. Minseok feels even worse seeing how his boyfriend doesn't seem to mind at all. Junmyeon wraps him into an embrace, succeeds in kissing him functional again.

"Don't leave," Minseok tells him and takes a deep breath. There's pipe smoke clinging to Junmyeon and he pulls him closer so the pleasant smell will take hold of his clothes and hair, too.

"Also forgot my gift?" Junmyeon guesses, with no trace of resentment.

And Minseok did, somehow, suddenly recalls the crochet pattern he printed out at work a month earlier, the yarn, the needle he bought, struggling to stay on budget. He doesn't know what to say so it's a good thing Junmyeon's kissing him, the way he always does, shushing his _I'm sorry_.

The box Junmyeon pushes into his hands rustles. "For you," he says, smiles at his attire and wanders off into the kitchen to sink into the sofa. His cheeks look red with cold, and his hair is ruffled from the hood of his coat. He's beautiful like this, an early summer bird overstaying well into winter, and Minseok wants to keep him right there on the sofa for as long as he wants to stay.

It takes a pair of scissors, then a fruit knife to take Junmyeon's gift box apart. They've settled into the sofa, Junmyeon so close Minseok feels the cold of his thigh seep into his; he must have walked over.  
When he folds the tape back, pries off the torn lid at last, he uncovers a pile of tiny paper stars, chubby and copper-coloured. He reaches in, scoops up a handful.

"For that glass vase in your kitchen," Junmyeon says. "Instead of flowers?"

"I love them," Minseok says. He dabs at his eyes as a precaution, scoops up a few more, sees something white in the box, pulls out a crinkled crescent moon as big as his palm and a small crumpled paper creature.

"It's supposed to be a bunny," Junmyeon tells him, "but I couldn't get it right."

He's fidgeting with the belt of Minseok's bathrobe, furling it neatly to let it unfurl again, so Minseok leans into him, puts a hand on his thigh. "Thank you. Let me show you my failed attempt."

When Minseok does, Junmyeon decides he'll buy himself a crocheting needle and some yarn too, texts an invite to Kyungsoo to join their first-time crocheting adventures.

"He'll pick up on it in a half hour and leave us in the dust," Minseok says, but it's a good idea; Kyungsoo brings steadiness and persistence where Minseok is all perfectionist frustration and Junmyeon eager restlessness.

Junmyeon nods, then leaps to his feet to disappear into the hallway. He returns with a torn open and slightly bent package of origami paper. "Let's do some together," he says, beaming at Minseok.

They lose most of their steam watching how-to videos, kissing between changing into some of Minseok's most cosy sleepwear, filling the paper stars into the vase and arranging the moon and bunny on them, ordering dinner, making tea and wiping up the spills when Junmyeon insists on carrying brimfull mugs to the sofa. Minseok isn't surprised their first attempts turn out equally dishearteningly terrible, and kisses the rest of Junmyeon's steam out of him.

It's then that he remembers something. "Let's make ddakji tiles," he suggests, and Junmyeon lights up again. They fold some from memory, Minseok folding them in thirds while Junmyeon folds them in half—and decide to better use them as throwaway coasters.  
Minseok looks up some more videos with his laptop on his knees while Junmyeon clears the space between sofa and kitchen counter, pushing furniture aside and stretching out on the floor with his smartphone when he deems it done.

Minseok folds the first two tiles, tosses them into Junmyeon's side and folds some more as Junmyeon practises for a few minutes, claiming he hasn't played the game in decades, then wanders off for more tea, then for a bathroom break he doesn't return from.

Minseok knocks at the bathroom door to find it empty, spies his bedroom door ajar. It's barely 10PM so he cleans off the table, does the dishes and mops the kitchen floor with one of the expensive face masks on he found at the very bottom of Junmyeon's box.  
The vase full of Junmyeon's stars sits in the corner of the kitchen countertop, copper on dark wood. It fills him with such sharp fondness he almost considers skipping his evening routine.

Junmyeon's still on his bed when he's done, curled up with a blanket twisted around his legs. Minseok pulls the phone out from under his face and wipes the drop of drool off the screen, kisses the eyebrow and temple he can reach. "Happy holidays," he whispers, tucking them both in and curling up against Junmyeon's back. He thinks he hears a _very happy_ being mumbled back, and even if it was a dream, it's all Minseok needs to fall asleep, melting into the comfort of Junmyeon's warmth next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading 📄  
> please let me know if it made you feel anything
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/fakeclover) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/fakeclover)


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